Amnesia
by Don'tEvenBlink
Summary: Tony Stark did not come out of the Tesseract portal alive, and it's as simple as that. He didn't make it out in time. But then, why are there Ironman armor pieces lying around? Why is there a man who can only recall his first name frequenting bars with a strange bluish glow surrounding his chest? What is the true story of Tony Stark's death?
1. Chapter 1

**This just came to me as I was writing the next chapter for 'The Trouble with Serums' so I decided, 'hey, why not?' Tell me if you like it! Oh, and if anything confuses you, leave it in a review or PM message so I can clear some things up ****.**

It was a cold day in New York City. The temperature had dipped into the low teens, not to mention the wind chill factor. Anyone with half a brain was locked up inside their cozy little apartments or offices, drinking warm beverages and watching the news. A day like that would be most unpleasant to be found outside.

But a particular man on one of the shadier streets of the city was walking alone, with only a worn jacket to keep him warm. The wind snapped at his back, its icy fingers stretching towards him; the man did not seem to notice, just pulling his jacket a little closer to him. He winced as an empty beer can rattled down the pavement, blown away by the wind; he didn't care much for loud noises, or standing water for that matter.

He shuffled along another few steps, before seeing the place he was headed for. The man stepped away from the grimy street onto the dirty sidewalk, and pushed open a door whose handle had long since broken and headed into the old, dusty bar.

The bartender, a balding man with an eye patch and ugly scars on his face, nodded to the man as he sat down on the wobbly, splintered barstool. The man ran a hand through his greasy black hair, his dark eyes seemingly broken. "The usual?" the bartender rasped out. The man nodded, dropping a one hundred dollar bill on the table. "And keep it coming," he added. The bartender smiled a cruel, sinister smirk. "Of course, Anthony. Of course."

_Two Months Earlier_

All of the living Avengers were sitting somberly in the meeting room. They were there to discuss the battle of Manhattan, of how they had driven the invading creatures out, how Tony Stark had diverted a nuclear missile into the portal, of how Tony Stark sacrificed himself in order to save New York City. No one had ever thought that Tony, of all people, would die that day. No one had ever seemed as invincible, as clever, as _alive _as Stark, and everyone had assumed he'd just…live. It was as simple as that. People counted on Tony to always be there, annoying and brash.

But Tony was gone. That much was true. Natasha had closed the portal too early, but Tony would've gone too long without air anyway. Tony was dead. Tony was dead. Tony was dead…That message kept repeating itself in Bruce's mind, but it didn't sink in. Tony was obviously upstairs in the lab, ready to rant about how easy it was to access SHIELD, or he was outside, flying around Stark Tower, making repairs. But deep down, a part of Bruce was screaming at him to get out of the dreaming state and _accept the damn truth._

Everyone else was like him, though, except for Steve. Steve just sat with his expression stony and dark. He understood the casualties of war better than anyone, but even he wanted his annoying, crazy friend back. But he also wasn't fooling himself into believing it would happen.

Nick Fury stepped into the meeting room, his expression unreadable. On his clipboard sat a single manila folder with a small label in the top right corner: Anthony Howard Stark. He looked a little sad himself as he set the folder down on the glossy wood table. "Stark was a good man. He was as annoying as hell…but he was a person I am proud to say was my friend. You guys handled Manhattan pretty well. And I just figured..." he pointed at the file. "You guys can take a look at that when you feel up to it." The Director left, leaving a slightly stunned group behind him.

Natasha was the first one to move. She switched seats silently, quickly, taking Tony's usual place at the head. She stared down at the folder, unsure. Then, she flipped it open, and started reading the report done by Maria Hill.

"Anthony Howard Stark was born in 1980. Self-proclaimed genius, billionaire, playboy and philanthropist, Mr. Stark had a talent for pissing off anyone and everyone he came into contact with." Natasha smiled at those words, a rare smile that only certain things could elicit from her. Everyone smiled at that, in fact.

Clint nodded at her to keep reading. "Anthony, known as Tony to friends, was captured in Afghanistan in the summer of 2008, hit with a kind of bomb that he had made himself. He was tortured with a type of waterboarding after he refused to make a nuclear missile for the group of terrorists that held him captive. After this torture was used multiple times, Stark agreed to make the nuke, but instead made an arc reactor to replace a car battery that had kept him alive. Then, he started working on a suit of metal. He broke out of the cave he was held prisoner in for three months and launched himself into the middle of the desert. Stark's friend, James Rhodes, found him a day later.

"After his recovery from multiple injuries he had received in the cave, Tony stopped weapon production in his company, Stark Industries. Tony then began making more suits, eventually making the one he used up until his death." Natasha paused for a moment, before continuing,

"Stark, after the betrayal of his godfather, Obadiah, and Palladium poisoning both almost killing him, he joined the Avenger's Initiative, despite Nick Fury's (understandable) reservations about him. Fury wasn't sure about Anthony because of his debilitating fear of standing water and Stark's unruly and snarky behaviors. However, Stark did join, and with the help of Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner and Thor Odinson they stopped an alien attack launched by Loki, Thor's adopted younger brother.

Natasha stopped again, looking at the next words. "Tony…Tony died at the end of the battle, unfortunately. A group of officials with higher authority than Director Fury had decided to send a nuclear weapon into the midst of New York City, trying to obliterate the last remnants of the alien invasion. However, this would destroy the City itself too, killing millions of innocent people." Natasha sucked in a deep breath, and when she next spoke, her voice trembled. As in, it _literally _trembled. Natasha's job was literally to be a badass, and Natasha was the best one for it. No one had ever seen Natasha cry. Yet here she was, a tear actually leaking out of the Russian's eye.

"Stark got the missile and flew up into the portal created by the Tesseract, a mysterious cube Loki had stolen earlier. H-he flew into the other dimension and diverted it onto a battleship that housed the leader of the invasion. Stark died a hero.

"After the portal closed, a huge tornado formed, probably from the disturbance the portal had caused. The Avengers quickly took care of this aftershock, thanks to Thor Odinson and his talent with the skies. Yet they searched for Mr. Stark in vain; he wasn't to be found. The whole world would be rocked with the revelation that their most annoying, snarky, insecure, heroic billionaire was gone hours later. Pepper Potts took over Stark Industries, and now all that is left of Tony is the landmarks he made and the memories of him in our hearts."

Natasha sat in silence in the meeting room for the longest time. Finally, Steve spoke up, "Is there more?" Natasha shook her head. "It's just copies of contracts and passports and things," she said quietly. Everyone nodded. "I guess…that's it?" Clint asked. Although he hadn't known Tony half as long as everyone else—and granted, even that wasn't long—Clint still felt like the air had deflated out of him as soon as he didn't see Stark make a reappearance out of the portal. Tony, for the short time Clint had known him, had seemed utterly invincible, a little like an annoying cockroach.

Bruce sighed. "I guess it is," he whispered, and pushed himself out of the office chair. Bruce needed to go and think, more than everything. So he departed first, bidding his goodbyes to the rest.

As Bruce emerged onto the busy New York street, he wondered idly if that was all life was. You're born, you grow up, get a job (although Bruce's job was slightly abnormal, it was still a job,) you die, and the world goes on. It would just keep revolving, and people would keep living, and soon you'd just be a name, a long-forgotten face that people might reference to for a couple of years.

_That's a depressing thought. Snap out of it,_ his brain commanded him. So he obediently shook his head and tried to focus in on the real world.

He had walked into an abandoned alleyway by accident. It was even dirtier than usual New York, with trash and dirt coating the pavement and a rancid smell taking over the air. He shivered involuntary; Bruce never liked alleyways. It reminded him of those cliché Hollywood films where the main character was mugged by some hoodlum. Bruce laughed a little bitterly; if anyone tried to attack _him, _they'd be torn limb from limb by the other guy.

Bruce had had to work on controlling the Hulk after Tony…left. It was like all of his control had broken down like a dam, and now he was keeping the Hulk at bay all the time. He'd lost people before (namely, Betty) but Tony was gone where Bruce couldn't even fathom about. And it made him angry. Angry that a good man (though he was unnecessarily annoying) had just been killed like that. He sighed. Life was a bitch.

But as Bruce turned to leave the alleyway, a piece of gold glinted in his peripheral vision. Bruce immediately did a double take. He sucked in his breath and headed the complete opposite direction then he had intended originally.

It couldn't be…Bruce threw away a few McDonald's burger wrappers, and grasped the cold metal in his hands. It wasn't possible. But it was in his hands. Tony Stark's Ironman mask sat in his hands, a simple piece of engineered metal that had never given Bruce as much hope as it did now. Tony Stark, Merchant of Death…more like Cheater of Death.

And for the first time since the battle, Bruce Banner really, truly smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm back! Here's a new chapter. Oh, and for KRAreader, the mask fell out of the portal, so Bruce thinks that if the mask fell out, so did Tony. As for the rest, well, that's the story ****. Oh, and Mel7200, thanks for correcting me, that'll be good for future reference!**

As Bruce pondered over his strange finding, on the complete opposite of town a man was waking up in an alleyway much like the one Bruce stood in. He felt like he had been brought back from the dead, with his head feeling oddly leaden and throbbing angrily, and his arm feeling as if it had been crushed by a moving truck that had been going one hundred miles per hour.

He groaned, and clutched his forehead with his good arm. He glanced around at his surroundings, wrinkling his nose at a rat that was feasting on garbage a few feet away from him. He was pretty sure he had never been on this side of the city…or had he? He tried to think of the last thing he could remember. A face…a pretty face, framed by strawberry blonde hair and deep blue eyes with a snub nose, smirking at him and laughing. But why? What had he been doing?

With a sickening lurch, the man realized he could not remember anything. _No, no, no, no…_ he thought frantically, trying to remember. _It'll all come back…won't it? No, of course it won't dummy, you obviously have a concussion…_ Using some choice words, he staggered to his feet, leaning against the nearest brick wall for support. _C'mon…at least try your name…god, what kind of person can't remember their own freaking name?_ Anthony…Anthony something or other.

He shook his head. Obviously someone had to be looking for him, right? The girl's face he remembered, she'd have to be worried about him. He sighed. Why had he been in such a grimy alleyway in the first place? What had happened to him to make him feel so awful?

Anthony decided that it would be important to check and see if he had any type of money to get him out of wherever he was. He felt in the pockets of the jacket he was wearing, and sure enough, he felt a lump that obviously meant cash. He grabbed the surprisingly thick wad of cash, and took it out. His eyes widened as he looked at it. They were all _one hundred dollar bills,_ forty of them in fact, held in place by a paperclip. _Who the hell carries around four thousand dollars with them?_ He held it as if it were alien.

Then it dawned on him; someone like that was bound to keep a phone around. He slipped the money back into his pocket, and felt around.

Ten minutes and three empty pockets later, the man gave up trying. He obviously did not have a phone with him, or any other means to communicate with a forgotten acquaintance. He sighed and ran a hand through his spiky hair, trying to think. He turned and surveyed the road in front of him, hoping that someone that knew him would magically appear.

Of course, none did; so he hobbled out into the street, holding his injured arm and looking around at the street. A lot of hoodlums, and none that looked helpful, and a few pigeons that looked a little lethal. Anthony quietly moved away from the birds, and then he spotted it. A bar.

It looked dilapidated and disgusting, but at that moment way too many thoughts and emotions were flitting around his head to be able to think clearly. Yes, a drink would do him good.

He stumbled across the nearly abandoned road and pushed the door open. It was obvious the knob was broken with the way it was hanging down. The dust rose up as he stepped into the dark room, and he coughed as he limped over to a barstool, falling onto it. He was already physically tired just from his walk. It was obvious that he was hurt badly—his arm was probably dislocated or worse—but the thought of a hospital scared him. Besides, they'd want him to give an ID, and what would he say?

The bartender nudged him, jerking him out of his thoughts. Anthony shook his head, and stared at the bartender. He was bald, with terrible scars running down his face and an eye patch to boot, but something seemed familiar about him. An eye patch…

"I _said,_ what do ya want?" he asked, his voice sounding like he smoked six packs of cigarettes a day. "Just…beers. Tons of them." Anthony said. The bartender rolled his eyes. "You got money?" Anthony slapped a one hundred dollar bill on the dirty counter, and raised his eyebrows. The bartender tried to clear his throat and said hoarsely, "Right…beers it is…"

Someone tapped Anthony on his shoulder. "What?" he asked, turning around impatiently. The guy who had tapped him was huge, at least 6'10, with tattoos covering every inch of his skin and rippling muscles covering his limbs. "Maybe you want to give me some money," he said lowly, trying to sound threatening.

Anthony laughed, and hard. He was the furthest thing from being afraid of this imbecile. For god's sake, he was _Anthony_…Anthony what? A headache began to develop, and he groaned. So close… "What?" the guy tried to hide his confusion. "Oh, nothing, big guy," Anthony said, annoyingly arrogant.

The 'big guy' in question was now a little ticked off. Usually his demeanor alone was enough to scare guys bigger than the one in front of him, so why wasn't he backing down? He growled, suddenly furious at the man. He aimed a punch at him, right in the middle of his chest.

With a resonating thud, Anthony was knocked off of his barstool. Not because of pain, though, but of the force the man had used and of shock. Shouldn't that have hurt? He had no time to check what the matter with him was though, for although the man was now holding his hand like a wounded bird, he was going to be VERY angry as soon as the agony passed. Anthony stood up, dusting himself off. It didn't help much, because it didn't look like anyone had swept since Albert Einstein came up with the theory of relativity.

Anthony snorted at the mental picture. Just imagine a bunch of alcoholics celebrating Albert Einstein's success and throwing out all the brooms and dustpans to show their appreciation… "Oh, you're going to regret that," the man murmured as the pain wore off. Anthony shook his head, and looked at the bigger man. Although he was heavily muscled, he would obviously lumber like an elephant in a fight and probably weighed as much as one. He was also as dumb as a two year old with head trauma.

"Well now, let's not get in a fight over who gets the cookie," Anthony said mockingly, smirking at the bigger man. The tattooed man immediately threw a punch at Anthony then, angry at Anthony's laid-back demeanor. Anthony didn't even flinch as he sidestepped the fist, and quickly kicked the man right underneath the ribs, effectively winding the guy. He doubled over, trying to recover his breath while attempting to glare menacingly at Anthony. Anthony just gave a light laugh, and had to duck another failed blow of his aggressor.

"Yeah, keep trying to punch me in the face. I'm sure it'll work eventually," Anthony grinned, a little maniacally. The bigger guy hissed and staggered to his feet. Anthony, however, kicked him where it _hurt, _forcing him back on his knees. Anthony then finished with a punch right below his jaw, jarring and probably breaking it. When he finally just gave up and lay on the floor curled up in a ball, Anthony sighed. "And here I thought we'd actually have a fight."

Anthony turned his back, and almost immediately pulled his shirt up in order to look at what had made the man's hand bounce off of him like Anthony was made of titanium; did he have some kind of metal plate in his chest?

Anthony gasped, forgetting where he was for a second. A blue circle of light was emanating from his chest, encased in a metal cylinder that was implanted in his chest. _An arc reactor,_ he thought numbly. Then he wondered how he knew that.

It definitely wasn't powered by any known element, either. It had a slightly brighter look to it then Palladium, maybe a more concentrated dose of it? But then, how was his body running on it, if Palladium became toxic over time? And besides…

_Whoa, slow down there._ Suddenly, his mind went blank, and he wanted to groan. He had seemingly remembered something, but now… "Sir, your drinks," the bartender said behind him.

Anthony sighed in relief, and whirled around. He grabbed the two nearest beers and poured them both into his mouth at once. He smiled as he let the fog of drunkenness take over him.

**This is basically to show how he managed to get to a bar, and why Tony hasn't contacted the other Avengers, just in case you haven't guessed already. P.S., thanks so much for all the positive reviews! They made me smile and feel good about myself. A special shout-out goes to Anon. Thank you so much for that, I haven't had someone praise me that well for my writing in a while. Thanks again for all the reviews!**

**~Don'tEvenBlink **


	3. Chapter 3

**Oh my god, 15 reviews on two chapters? That has never, EVER happened to me before. Thank you all so, so much! Okay, now to show my appreciation for each reviewer **

**AvengerGal: Again, one (or two, I guess!) of the best reviews I've ever gotten. Thank you so much for such high praise, and being compared to julliet15 is amazing for me. Thank you so much!**

**StarkStrucked: I love that alias, it's so creative XD. Thank you so much, and here's a chapter for you!**

**julliet15: Wow, thanks so much! I really enjoy your fanfictions, and thanks for the praise!**

**Mel7200: You're very welcome. Here's a new chapter, hope you like it!**

**KRAlover: I'm so happy everyone wants a new chapter! I tried to make this one longer!**

**Amb: Yeah, I know, sad isn't it? I'd talk about it further, but I'll probably give something away, so sorry!**

**Karlina101: Yeah, that would be a sight, wouldn't it? And I know that Bruce wouldn't be as sad as some people, but he seemed the most compassionate of the bunch, so I singled him out. But Pepper does feel more keenly about it, as shown by this chapter.**

**Scoobycool9 and Luckycool9: Thank you for the praise about using Tony's wit, but again, I can't reveal too much!**

**OgichiRocks: Thank you so, so much! I'm glad you're so anxious for another chapter XD. Thank you for the comment about my writing skill, too, because people say I'm a little young for writing.**

Bruce had to get out of his room.

All of the Avengers were staying in the Stark Tower, as Pepper had said that Tony would've wanted it that way. It was being renovated on the tenth floor, the one where the Other Guy had smashed Loki into the floor and Tony had fallen out of, but the guest rooms were on the fifth floor, so the team could stay without too much trouble from the construction workers.

Bruce's room looked just like it did when he walked into it a week ago, except for a small, neatly taped up cardboard box containing all of his scientific notebooks sitting in the corner next to a redwood desk that held stationary and a cup of pens that was color-coded. It was obvious that Pepper had designed the guest rooms, because they all looked nice and soothing, with white comforters on the king-sized beds and the walls painted a soft green, and the only furniture was a vanity, dresser, wardrobe and desk with a padded chair.

Although Pepper had been very welcoming to the Avengers, she had withdrawn quickly and Bruce hadn't seen her since she came back from D.C. She'd taken the news like lemon juice, wincing and tearing up but not breaking down. It was so impressive Bruce had wondered how much Tony had really meant to Pepper, until he noticed the shattered look in her eyes. That had made him want to Hulk out so badly he had locked himself up in the guest room and played Mozart blaringly loud while he read a pointless book he hardly remembered.

Ever since then, the bedroom had been a reprieve from the depressing atmosphere that he felt whenever he walked into the common room. Bruce could take his own sadness in stride without too many incidents with the Hulk, but when the whole room was weighted down with grieving, his senses went into overdrive. Of course, there were some who were trying to hide their sadness away, like Natasha and Clint, but you could see it in their eyes, just as you could see Pepper's broken spirit in hers. And that was when Bruce would be overwhelmed and he would feel the Hulk growling at the back of his mind.

So it wasn't unusual to find Bruce in his bedroom. But never had he spent six hours in there without breaks for food and relieving himself, as he was now. As soon as Bruce had woken up, he had hurried to the wardrobe and pulled out the gold and red helmet he had hidden there, placing it reverently at the foot of his bed. He took a seat on the floor next to it, where he had commenced staring at it, and there he was six hours later.

Questions swirled around the peaceful genius's mind as he stared at the metal. _If Tony's alive, why hasn't he tried to contact one of us yet? If he lost his helmet, did he make it down without cracking his skull? How did he fall out without any of us noticing? Is he seriously injured? DID HE MAKE IT OUT IN TIME? _Bruce shook his head, his mind clogging up with questions flying around his head. Then, he abruptly stood up, making a decision he only half-realized until he was already at Pepper's door, clutching the helmet tightly.

Bruce knew that it wasn't a good idea at all—what if it was just a piece of his suit that fell out by luck? It would be easier to let Pepper believe that he had died nobly, selflessly. But still…the slight chance of Tony being alive would help Pepper get back on her feet and actually _live._ Right now, Pepper was living catatonically; whenever he passed her office she was always sitting at her desk, tapping on the keyboard, or signing some important document. But throughout that process her eyes were always glazed over, and when he listened to her talk on the phone, her voice was numb, devoid of emotion. Pepper had to snap out of it. And the slight chance of Tony being alive would either break her or heal her.

But as Bruce paused at the door, he noticed that he couldn't hear her typing at her laptop, or her shuffling through lengthy and boring contracts. In fact, if he pressed his ear to the door, he could hear soft sobbing, barely audible through the flimsy plywood.

He opened the door a crack, and peered through. As soon as he saw Pepper, he was completely shocked. She was crying in her office chair, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her red hair, usually brushed neatly and styled to perfection, was mussed, like she'd just stumbled out of bed. Her eyes were red and puffy from tears that were still leaking, and she was clad in an overly large MIT shirt and ratty sweatpants—Tony's clothes, he realized. Her chest was shaking with suppressed sobs, and she'd clearly been crying for a while, because her face was streaked with dried tears along with ones that were pouring out.

He was about to close the door and pretend he never saw that, when Pepper looked up. "B-B-Bruce?" she sniffled, trying to regain composure. "Hey," he said weakly. Pepper hastily wiped at her eyes, but her bottom lip trembled dangerously. "I-I'm s-sorry, I'm a c-complete w-wreck," she tried laughing, but the sound died in her throat, and more tears fell. "No, it's—I'll just come back later." Bruce suddenly felt extremely guilty. She was already depressed, and if he gave her potentially false hope, she'd fall all over again, probably even further than she already was.

"N-no, what is it?" Pepper hiccupped and tried to clear her foggy head, but all that came into her mind was Tony's hand in hers, telling her he loved her with all of his heart…his snarky attitude about everything, but how he secretly cared deeply…how he would always bring her into his lab and show her his newest invention, explaining the schematics to the point where she'd feel her head whirl and she'd kiss him to shut him up…her heart being crushed as Natasha closed the portal, and all that came out was a tornado, and how she'd sworn she'd seen Tony falling with that tornado; sobbing for two straight days before even moving from her office…everything wonderful, maddening, and heroic about Tony Stark, and she'd sob for hours on end still as she remembered him, knowing she'd never be able to feel his arms around her again.

Bruce shook his head. "Trust me, it's nothing." "B-Bruce, just t-tell m-me," Pepper couldn't help the tears still raining from her eyes; Bruce was a scientist too, and he spoke Tony's language…god, everything seemed to be reminding her of him! She tried to think clearly once again, but her thoughts were too cluttered with memories of her dead boyfriend. She let out a small gasp, and quickly dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

Bruce hesitated. He knew that Pepper, though not half as stubborn as Tony, still had the will of an angry Fury tracking down an enemy, which meant that she could harass him annoyingly and unceasingly even in her state. He wouldn't be able to hide it from her, and the longer he resisted, the more she'd be angry. So, he finally pulled the helmet out from behind his back and set it on her desk. "I…I found this in an alley yesterday and…" Pepper sat, suddenly very still, her eyes transfixed on the piece of Tony's suit. A series of unreadable emotions flickered in her eyes, like cold, blue fire was burning behind her eyes. Then, abruptly, she grabbed the Ironman mask and threw it as hard as she could at the other wall.

It crashed into a beige file cabinet, creating a deep dent in the cabinet and somehow managing to open some of the drawers, scrambling documents and contracts, sending them floating gently to the ground. The helmet rolled under a chair in the corner, and Bruce stared in shock at the now dented filing cabinet, not expecting that kind of reaction at all.

Pepper was now standing, balancing herself by placing her hands on her desk. She was glaring at the chair as if she wanted to set a lion upon it, but tears were pouring freely out of her eyes now, and she was breathing deeply. She looked a little insane like that, wearing men's clothes with no makeup, furious at a chair but crying at the same time. It would've been a funny picture if Bruce hadn't understood exactly where she was coming from.

Then, as abruptly as she'd thrown the Ironman mask, she swiveled to face Bruce, who was standing there, scared, shocked, and sad all at once. "Is this some kind of joke?" she said, her voice shaking under the restraint of keeping all of her emotions at bay. "Pepper—" "Leave!" She pointed at the hallway. "No, you can't do this to yourself, I loved Tony too—" "NO! YOU DIDN'T!" she screamed, finally breaking. "YOU DIDN'T _KNOW _HIM! YOU NEVER SAW HOW MUCH HE'S DONE, HOW _GREAT _HE WAS! HE DIED SAVING FUCKING NEW YORK, AND YOU DON'T EVEN CARE! I LOVED HIM, HE WAS ALL I HAD—all I had…so just leave," her screaming tantrum suddenly ceased, and she had sunk back into her chair, her voice breaking as she came to the realization that he was the only person who she'd honestly loved with all of her heart. She didn't even notice as Bruce slipped out. She didn't even notice that somehow the Ironman helmet had made its way into her arms, and that she was petting it like someone might stroke a cat. All she saw was a long gone man, a man who'd never ruin twelve percent of a moment again.

**Sorry if Pepper seemed a little OOC, I tried to portray her as best as I could, but it was hard, honestly. Hope you liked it!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm so sorry I haven't updated since forever. My computer totally shut down and rebooted itself, ERASING EVERY PROGRAM I'VE EVER DOWNLOADED INCLUDING MICROSOFT WORD.** **Remember when I said I'd kill my computer in an author's note on 'The Trouble with Serums'? Well, now it's officially dead to me. I'm sneaking a chapter on the family computer right now.**

_Pain clouded his vision as Tony tried to sit up from the hard surface on which he lay. He whimpered from the agony and collapsed back onto the surface, his whimpers turning to screams as figures, cloaked in darkness, bent over him, scalpels and knives clutched in their dark hands. They were there to hurt him—why? What had he done? He tried to shout at them, but before the sound touched his lips they were cut off by a scalpel digging into his chest, and oh god, they were trying to kill him, he was obviously dead and this was hell, oh god, LET THIS BE A DREAM, WAKE UP FOR GOD'S SAKE!_

Anthony awoke in a cold sweat, the darkness still clouding his thoughts. Then he realized that it wasn't the remnants of the dream, that it was actually pitch-black. He let out a shudder before composing himself, and stood up, groping for the light switch. Finally his hand hit the metal lever, and he quickly flipped it upwards, lighting up the freezing place.

Although four thousand dollars could let you rent a nice townhouse in downtown Manhattan for a month before finding a job, the apartment Anthony had bought was far from a nice townhouse. It was a small, windowless room with half rotten floorboards and bugs creeping along the white walls. The only appliance found in the room was a mini refrigerator, and that had come with the apartment (even though Anthony wasn't sure it could even be called an apartment, seeing as it was just a room). It was just down the street of the bar he had walked into. There wasn't even a bathroom—a community bathroom was located just down the hall for him and all the other hoodlums living there to use.

Even though he still had thirty eight hundred dollars left in his pocket (the room had only cost one hundred dollars, and that was a bit high-priced) all Anthony had bought was a threadbare quilt crafted by an old woman downstairs, and she only charged fifty cents for it, claiming that he was her son, when in truth she just had bad vision and Alzheimer's disease.

Anthony sighed as the light fixture dimly lit the room, touching the white-washed walls in relief. He went over to the mini fridge and yanked the door open, grabbing a beer and opening it while sitting cross-legged on his quilt. There, he sorted out everything he knew so far, as he had been doing since the day he woke up.

It had been two weeks since he had woken up. He didn't remember anything but a very pretty woman's face and his first name. No one on the side of the city he was in recognized him, excepting the old lady. He had a metal cylinder in his chest. He had nightmares about the cylinder got into his chest, making him a bit of an insomniac. He was scared of water, loud noises, the dark, and falling. He had four thousand dollars but no cell phone. He was utterly alone, and—dare he say it?—terrified.

He was terrified of not remembering who he was. He was also petrified of remembering. What if his life had always been like that? What if he had a huge enemy after him, and he had no idea? What if his friends weren't looking for him? What if he had no friends? What if the kind of man he had been was a terrible one? What if…

Anthony shook his head and stood up, stretching. He flicked off the light switch, and stumbled back to his blanket, snuggling into it. He closed his eyes, but he knew sleep wouldn't tempt him. He was simply going to wait until morning came.

~_Amnesia~_

Bruce straightened his tie, looking at his mirror. He sighed at his completely black outfit. Black suit, black dress shirt, black tie, black shoes, black socks. Of course, you have to wear black to a funeral.

It had been two weeks since he found the helmet. Thirteen days since Pepper stopped talking to him. It was too early for Tony's funeral. Tony always postponed business and even personal events. Why couldn't this one be postponed also?

But, after Pepper's…episode, Pepper had begun sorting through Tony's electronic files, finally making herself to come down to his old lab. After about an hour, Pepper had found a file labeled 'My Awesomely Sad Funeral'. It took another hour for her to open it.

Inside had been exactly what he wanted for his funeral, including a coffin that was so technologically advanced that it would keep his body looking normal for one hundred years and plans for what church he would want, what and who would be there, and even refreshments (he requested a LOT of booze). Pepper had assumed that it was all done while he was dying of Palladium poisoning, but she was shocked nonetheless. What kind of nut job would plan out their own funeral? There was even a document inside the electronic file that had Tony's last goodbyes to everyone he had been close to. It had instructions for Tony's best friend, James Rhodes, to read aloud for everyone.

Bruce tried to get the gumption to leave his bedroom and go down to the black limousine sitting outside the tower, but he couldn't. Bruce instead went over and almost collapsed on his bed.

Even though Bruce still believed that Tony was alive, it still brought closure to the situation. It was easy to believe that he wasn't dead without a monument dedicated to him in the same graveyard where his parents lay. Even though they had not found a body, the funeral still meant that everyone thought of him as merely a memory, and this was their last way to honor him. All Bruce wanted was to lock himself up in his room and try and figure out where Tony was.

Bruce sighed at his reflection one last time, running his hand through his hair. Then, Bruce headed out to join the others in the limousine.

Pepper wouldn't look at him the whole way over.

**This is a bit of a filler chapter, honestly. I know, I hate fillers as much as you do, but it's meant as a transition to the next chapter, where Tony's funeral happens. And don't worry, they'll find him in the next few chapters ****.**

**~Don'tEvenBlink**


	5. Chapter 5

The funeral was surprisingly very classy.

While Bruce had known Tony only about three days, Bruce had felt that he could read the man like a book. Tony was flashy, a bit arrogant, self-assured and definitely narcissistic, but he had a caring side that Bruce could see plain as day. But Bruce had never imagined that he would be the type to want a smallish funeral.

But according to the file that Pepper had found, he had only invited people who he cared about and cared about him. As a result, the Avengers (which were VERY recent additions—Bruce wondered where he had gotten the time to add them), Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, and a few family friends and relatives were there. It took place in a small chapel where his mother's and father's funerals had taken place. It was a sweet, quiet place with stained glass windows, furnished only with a few rows of pews, a piano, an alter **(A/N: Sorry, I don't go to church so I'm kind of making this up) **and a little refreshment table holding wine on the back wall.

The priest—another family friend—talked about Tony's accomplishments, where he graduated school, how he'd died, and things similar to that, then stepped aside for people to speak.

The first one to give a speech was Rhodey, who, according to Pepper, was Tony's best and only friend for a while (which Bruce found a bit sad).

"Tony Stark was the craziest human being who ever lived, in my personal opinion." A few chuckles came out of that statement, mostly because it was true. "He was definitely a genius, I won't deny that. Sometimes when I visited him, he would be in these moods where reality was a dream and his dreams were reality to him. He hardly acknowledged my existence during these times, and once he was done the creation changed the face of technology.

"But what many people denied up until his…death is that he was a good man. Even before Afghanistan, Tony was donating millions to charity each year under pseudonyms and never had a one-night stand with a married woman. He just didn't realize what his company was truly doing, and once he did Tony shut it down. Afghanistan made Iron Man, I won't deny that, but Tony created Iron Man too. And a person like that has to have a heart of gold.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that we should remember Tony like he should be remembered: as a hero. And anyone who denies that must be an ass or an idiot." Rhodey took a deep breath, and headed back to his seat. Bruce didn't miss the expression Rhodey wore, and Bruce had to take deep breaths to keep the Other Guy at bay.

The next few were a blur. All of the people who spoke after Rhodey were family friends or friendly associates, but none made an impression on Bruce. Then, it was Pepper Potts's turn.

Pepper stood up, smoothed down her black dress, and strode to the front. Looking down at the pages she had rested on the podium, she began in a slightly wobbly voice.

"I loved, and still love, Tony Stark. He was special, so very, very special to me. I've loved him for over twelve years in fact, and I have to tell you that watching him die was the hardest goddamn thing I think I've ever had to do. But…I guess it also brings some closure. I know what he did and what he did it for. And I believe it is noble, nobler than anyone in this room could've done, even the Avengers. That man was the most selfish person I've ever met, and yet he sacrificed himself to save others.

"The only thing I wish could've ended differently—aside from the obvious—is that I had picked up the phone. I wish I could've heard his last words. That is the mistake I will regret for the rest of my life. I didn't hear what he wished me to hear…that shatters my heart even more than the fact that the man I loved is now gone. But in all honesty, I couldn't pick it up. I couldn't hear him say his final words. It…it _just hurt too much._

"Have you ever felt that? Not just your heart break, but shatter into a million pieces and blow into the wind? Have you ever felt that someone has ripped it out and is playing with it with a hammer? I know, and I won't forget. I won't forget Tony Stark. Because it's not about you, or me, it's about legacy."

Bruce knew that line. It was a line Tony himself had said. Pepper now had tears leaking out of her eyes, and she hurried back to her seat.

Meanwhile, the priest had taken back over and was complimenting everyone on their eulogies. But Bruce wasn't paying attention. Instead, he looked at Pepper. He knew that Pepper was broken inside, and that he was part of the reason. And now, Bruce had to make it up to her.

That was when Bruce decided to search for Tony. He hadn't been sure up until that moment that he would, but he knew that he had to, for if he had actually fallen out, if he was alive…it was a way to repay Pepper. And if Bruce found a body, it meant that it brought her closure. Either way, Bruce had to help.

Little did he know that the man he was searching for was at the moment sitting in a bar, the TV blaring about Tony Stark. And the man in question was staring at the TV in horror. Because, even though the picture was grainy, he could still make it out. This Tony Stark…this supposedly dead man looked identical to Anthony.

**Grr! I hate this, I hate this, I hate this!**

**I'm so sorry I haven't updated in a month! Sorry, time flies and I just didn't realize, not like that's a valid excuse. As soon as I realized, I ran to the computer and typed…this. I must have writer's block, because my chapters are usually better than this. Sorry!**

**Oh, and happy birthday to Robert Downey Jr.! He's turning forty-eight O.o that man looks creepily good for a forty-eight year old…**

**~Don'tEvenBlink**


	6. Chapter 6

Bruce would never admit this to anyone, but the funeral seemed to take forever that day.

It was sad, of course, and Bruce believed that paying your dues to a lost friend is very important, but after deciding to find Tony, he was itching to get back to the tower and start working. So when Rhodey got back up again after the priest ended his seemingly endless speech, Bruce groaned inwardly. Would it ever end?

Rhodey cleared his throat, and stared at the paper at his hands. Then, snorting humorlessly, Rhodey said, "This is what Tony wrote to us in case of his death. I don't know how he knew, but I think that he thought he was going to die young because of his job. Well, that bastard was right.

"The first goodbye is to Steve Rogers, better known as Captain America." Bruce's ears pricked. When had Tony gotten the time to include the Avengers? And why would he include the Avengers? Tony hardly knew them when he died.

"Hey, Capsicle. I'm kind of writing this really quickly, so it's going to be short. Eh, I'll revise it later. Look, you are really annoying with your whole gentleman from the 40s shtick, but I'll give you one thing: you are Captain America. I mean seriously, I thought you'd be kind of cool underneath that superhero thing, but you ARE him. And here I was thinking you were just a very talented actor. No wonder my old man idolized you. So…bye. Stay spangly.

"Now for Natashalie. First off, just marry Clint already, we all know that you like him and that you're in the Avengers because it's the right thing to do, not that it's so you can wipe your slate clean. Second, you are the most dangerous woman I've ever been around, though I'd never admit it besides right now. It's been a pleasure annoying the hell out of you.

"And as for Point Break, (He means Thor) I don't really know you that well, but this Jane you wouldn't shut up about seems pretty cool. Keep her. Also, nice lightning-hammer thingy you do. That's pretty awesome.

"Bruce, you're the only person I've really ever had a technical conversation with without looking like you'd like to point a gun at my head, so that's pretty nice. You're a pretty decent guy, so do me a favor and DON'T kill yourself? I know you can learn to deal with the Jolly Green Giant given time. I'd like to know you better, since it seems like right now you're the only Avenger who can really stand me. So thanks for that.

"And now for Coulson. You have the temperament of a saint, I swear, but I'll break it at some point. I always do. Now that you're dead, I'm revising this. I guess now I'm with you wherever you are, so now I can annoy the hell out of you for all eternity. Prepare for hell: Tony Stark style. Ha!

"To Nick Fury: It has been a pleasure ignoring all the orders you have given to me. Really. I'm going to be VERY surprised if you actually came to my funeral, but if you're hearing this, thanks for letting me into the Avengers Initiative. It's actually kind of fun to work with other super-people (even though I'm THE BEST) and…yeah. Nice eye patch, by the way.

"To Rhodey: You're an awesome sidekick, Platypus. I really don't know how you put up with me all these years, but I'm kind of glad you did because you're the only true friend I've ever had. Now that the sappy part's over, I want you to know that you really suck at maneuvering in the suits. Really, I'm kind of embarrassed for you…But really, thank you, Dum-dum.

"And, finally Pepper. I held off for you because it's painful to think about being without you, even though I'm dead and all now. I love you Peps, and don't think for a second that I don't. Virginia Potts, you are the most fiery, sassy, capable, AMAZING person I know, and since I'm gone now, I'll give you my blessing. Find someone. Please, do that for me. I know you'll never find someone as awesome as me, or fantastic enough to deserve you, but at least try. I want you to be happy.

"…That's the end of the manuscript," Rhodey announced. A heavy feeling settled in the cathedral, even though Tony's words were for the most part light-hearted and happy. Bruce thought the heavy, choking feeling was because they had all realized those were the last words the eccentric genius would ever say (even though Rhodey _was _the one to utter them). It was closure, of course, but at the same time it left a deep sadness that ached like sore muscles after a climb. Bruce sighed sadly.

Of course, he would find Tony Stark. That was a given. But it didn't make the emotional level any lesser as they left the funeral of Tony Stark.

**Okay, I am a terrible person who needs to be punished severely. I'M SO SORRY. First off, that this was basically a filler chapter to fulfill part of the plot that I realized was missing, and second off for not updating for almost three months. So, as a treat/I'm-so-sorry-for-being-an-awful-human-being- gift, I'm going to write the next chapter as soon as possible and put it up really fast **

**~Don'tEvenBlink**


	7. Chapter 7

**Well hello again, my avid readers! You guys are seriously awesome. I mean, 10 reviews in the space of a day?! I really appreciate it! I'm so glad people actually read this fanfiction, especially since it just started out as a lark. But really, 91 story followers? With just six chapters? THANK YOU, THANK YOU THANK YOU. Also, I will answer any questions you have about this fanfiction, in case you guys get confused on some stuff. Just leave it in your review or PM me. I promise I'll PM you back (mostly because I have nothing else to do except lurk around fanfiction all day) and if you're an anonymous reviewer or don't have an account, I'll answer it either at the beginning of the story or the end, depending on if I remember early enough or not.**

**Oh, and in case you were confused last chapter, Clint was NOT included in the goodbyes Tony made because Tony met Clint right before they went into battle, so he kind of died before he could add Clint to the list.**

**Now, I shall not annoy you anymore with bland Author's notes. ONTO THE STORY!**

Anthony did not appreciate surprises.

They were fine and all, but truth be told he didn't like them. There was danger in surprises. Good ones were always welcome, of course, but bad ones…well, most people wouldn't believe it, but preparedness was more his style. He liked to know what he was facing before making a decision.

Finding out that he was a supposedly dead billionaire was not a good surprise to him.

Most people probably would kill to be this Tony Stark. He had money, fame, was a genius, had been a freaking SUPERHERO, and, from the sounds of it, had girls practically queuing up to hook up with him.

But he was not Tony Stark.

Well, he was, but not really. He couldn't remember anything from his past life, except for that beautiful woman's face. But, if Tony Stark's reputation reflected the actual person, that woman could've been anyone. Hell, it could have been the last girl he dumped. And Anthony was only a shadow of this Tony Stark. He was a different man with the same face. With his memories gone, Anthony had become someone else, someone who was a drunkard, and was crass, and hardly ever spoke to anyone.

Anthony was not proud of this, but he didn't particularly want to change.

So maybe that was why instead of going out to face the world, to learn more about this Tony, he was curled up in his cheap apartment, clutching a beer with shaking hands. His twelfth beer that day, and he still had not come to terms with the news.

It had been two weeks since he'd first seen a glimpse of his old self.

Anthony shook his head, trying to clear the fog the alcohol had created in his mind. He needed to do _something. _He wasn't just going to sit by and let life pass him, drowning forgotten sorrows in buckets of alcohol. There were people mourning him, and while he didn't want to particularly find them, he knew the right thing to do was to find them.

So he got up off his sorry ass for the first time that day, and stumbled to the communal bathroom. Splashing water in his face, he tried to get rid of the stench of alcohol that surrounded his very being. After repeatedly doing this, he finally felt his mind jerk a bit into focus, and he shook his head, rubbing his face with a towel.

Then, he started formulating a plan. He needed to research this Tony Stark, to find out what he was like, what he cherished, what he'd accomplished. He needed to jog his memories a bit, to figure out just what happened to land him where he was now. He needed…he needed a computer.

So, he hurried down the stairs, to the first floor where a very bored looking assistant sat typing lazily on a huge, outdated laptop. Anthony came barreling toward her, and she looked up in surprise.

"Can I help you?" she asked with a New Jersey accent, popping her bubblegum. Anthony just simply said, "Give me your laptop." She looked stunned. "_Excuse _me?" she asked. Anthony felt around inside of his jacket, and grabbed the wad of cash. It was severely depleted because of the drinking, but he still had a lot left.

He picked out two one-hundred dollar bills and plopped them down on the table, raising his eyebrows. The assistant stared at the money as if it was performing a tap-dance number on her desk. "Laptop. Now." She just gulped, and handed him the computer.

As Anthony left to go back to his apartment, he felt a bubble of emotion rise up in his chest, making him feel anxious, yet happy. Anthony wondered what it was for a moment, before realizing:_ It was hope. _He might be able to reclaim his life back once more. It terrified, excited, and made him happy all at the same time.

Anthony was finally going somewhere.

**I know, I know, you're thinking: **_**Elizabeth, twice in two days? Are you actually treating us right for once? **_**Yeah...if I'm totally honest here, I'll probably forget about it again for a while. But I'll try to update! I swear! Sorry it's so short, I **_**was **_**going to include a scene with Bruce and Pepper again, but it was going to be too long, so you guys can look forward to that next chapter. Sorry it's short! But hey, at least this story's finally going somewhere, right?**

**~Don'tEvenBlink**


	8. Chapter 8

It had been a long day for Pepper.

She'd been at the Stark Industry headquarters in New York City all day, filing and writing paperwork, signing contracts, not thinking about Tony, scheduling and canceling meetings, studying sales charts, talking with department heads, giving pay raises and deductions, and _not thinking about Tony. _

You see, something had been bothering her ever since…ever since the funeral. And that something was named Bruce. Bruce… she sighed inwardly at the name. He was perfectly nice and everything, but he wouldn't give up on the ridiculous notion that her boyfriend had somehow survived. She didn't know why—Bruce hadn't even known Tony that long. Why was Bruce so insistent that Tony was alive?

_Well, why are you so insistent that he's dead? _A tiny voice in the back of her head asked. _You've been dead set against it since Bruce came in with that stupid helmet, _it reminded her. Well, that _was _true—but it was insane! He couldn't be alive, he just couldn't. Just the thought of him made her throat ache with tears. If she got her hopes up—if she believed for just one second that he could be alive, she was setting herself up for failure. Because she _knew _he was gone, and to feel that kind of pain again…she wouldn't be able to handle it. She'd fall apart.

_You're already falling apart at the seams already, _the voice told her matter-of-factly. _It's just a matter of time before you break completely. _But she drowned the voice out, swallowed her tears, stood up straight, and marched out of the office, pushing the sadness out of her mind. She couldn't fall apart. She had to go on. And go on, she will.

~_Don't mind this, it's just a line break and stuff~_

By the time she got back to the Avengers' Tower, it was already past midnight, according to her watch.

Pepper typed the password into the keypad, and let Jarvis take her fingerprint. The front door unlatched for her, and she knew that the alarms and weapons and whatever else Tony had used for protection against an intruder was being disassembled. She smiled slightly at that. He was always paranoid.

As soon as she walked in, Jarvis's voice greeted her. "Welcome home, Miss Potts," he said. "How was your day?" Pepper smiled up at the speaker, where the voice was emanating from. "Great, Jarvis," she said. "Is there, ah, anyone in the living area?" Jarvis knew what she meant by 'anyone'. She meant Bruce Banner. "Just Mr. Rogers," he said lightly. "Would you like me to alert him that you are coming up?" Pepper sighed, relieved that she wouldn't have to deal with Bruce again. There was enough awkwardness in the air whenever he was around that she was pretty sure Natasha was tempted to try and cut it with a knife.

"That's not necessary, Jarvis," she said, already working her hair out of her bun as she walked to the elevator. She didn't really want to walk up ten floors in heels. "I'm sure he's not really used to a disembodied voice talking to him from the ceiling yet," she joked. Jarvis chuckled, and said, "As you wish, Miss Potts." The elevator dinged at Jarvis's last word, and she stepped out into the foyer.

Steve occupied a leather couch that faced the humongous flat-screen TV that Tony had insisted be put there. He turned around at the sound of the elevator, every muscle tensed, but he relaxed as soon as he saw Pepper grinning at him, taking off her heels and gingerly stepping around the Loki-shaped indents in the floor that Clint had begged be kept there. "Hey, Steve," she said, flopping onto a soft fabric recliner that Pepper had placed next to a coffee table.

"Hey, Pepper," he greeted, folding up the newspaper he'd been reading. He placed it on the coffee table. They immediately lapsed into a comfortable silence that always made Pepper slightly drowsy. Steve was probably her favorite person in the Tower right now, because Natasha and Clint were slightly knife-crazy, Thor was very loud and had a fetish for Pop-Tarts, and Bruce was…well…Bruce. Steve and Pepper, however, had become fast friends, since they were the only semi-normal people in the Tower.

After a while, however, Pepper found her thoughts shifting (once again) to Tony. _You know he's alive, _the obnoxious voice in her head pushed. _You can feel it. He's not gone. You're just too stubborn to look for him._

She wasn't too stubborn, though; it was that she didn't want to get hurt, yet again. He was dead, end of story; and even though it made her want to scream, she had to move on. It's what Tony said he wanted. But Pepper couldn't; she couldn't deal with the grief slowly eating away her insides, and the memories that were so fresh they burned her mind, and she just couldn't deal with him just being _gone. _It hurt, and she felt like there was a gaping hole where her heart should be.

"How do you do it?" she whispered, tearing her eyes away from the New York skyline that she had no idea she was staring at. She looked at Steve instead, who was now looking up in interest. "How do you live after everyone you love is gone?" her eyes implored him to answer. She needed words of advice.

Steve bit his lip, and set down the newspaper again. When he looked back up again, his eyes were brimming with a sadness like no other Pepper had ever seen before, and it took her aback. "You don't," he said, his voice slow but steady. The thing that surprised Pepper was that it wasn't thick with tears. He'd been in the ice for over seventy years, and he was just able to move on? How?

"At least…not at first," he said. "You grieve. You let yourself be sad, and to feel, so that you don't become numb. Then, when you're ready, you live. You go out and try and have fun, for the sake of the person's memory. Some days…some days you don't feel like even getting out of bed. But you try, and you honor them, Pepper. And…if there's a spark of hope they're still out there…you find them."

Pepper turned away. He felt that she should be looking too, then. She couldn't. She wouldn't. She wasn't going to hurt again. _So what, you don't want to _feel _again? Pain is better than nothing. Pain tells you that you're alive. Go and find him. _She bit her lip, smoothed down her blouse, and stood.

"Where's Bruce?" she asked.

**Okay…so…not the best chapter. And I didn't update fast. Don't shoot me! My birthday's tomorrow! Let me live, as a birthday present, pweassee? **

**Sorry that this chapter's horrible. That's what happens when you push your writing skill though you have writer's block. God, the terrible writer's block. UGH.**

**But, in better news, the next two chapters are VERY IMPORTANT. So another good reason to let me live—you want to see the next two chapters, right?**

**Oh, and I have a newfound love of Supernatural. Gah, that show's amazing! Anyone else watch that, or Merlin or Sherlock or Doctor Who? Those shows are freaking awesome! Anyway, Allons-y, you clotpole sociopath, and remember—PUDDING!**

**Sorry, such a fangirl. Don't mind me. I'm on a sugar high.**

**~Don'tEvenBlink**


End file.
